Unlocking the Century-Old Enigma: The Everest Mystery Delves Into George Mallory and Sandy Irvine’s 1924 Expedition

Did George Mallory and Sandy Irvine successfully reach the summit of Mount Everest on June 8, 1924, thereby becoming the very first human beings to conquer the world’s highest peak? More than a century after the two climbers were last spotted "going strong for the top," this haunting question remains mountaineering’s greatest and most enduring riddle.

In a new book titled The Everest Mystery, Julie Summers—Sandy Irvine’s great-niece—and Jochen Hemmleb, recognized globally as the leading authority on the 1924 Mallory and Irvine expedition, reexamine the legendary climb. The authors explore Irvine’s life, his dynamic partnership with George Mallory, and the myriad hypotheses surrounding their final hours on the mountain. Above all, the work seeks to restore Sandy Irvine to his rightful, central place in the epic narrative of the 1924 Everest tragedy.

Setting the Stage: From Unknown Frontier to Modern Tourism

Today, popular perception paints Mount Everest as an overcrowded, heavily commercialized destination. The internet regularly floods with imagery of luxurious base camps and long queues of climbers inching their way along windswept, razor-thin summit ridges. What was once universally regarded as the ultimate test of human endurance has increasingly transformed into a consumer product commanding a hefty price tag.

The landscape was entirely different in 1902, the year of Sandy Irvine’s birth. Indigenous Tibetans referred to the massive peak as Chomolungma, meaning "Mother Goddess of the World," while Nepalese inhabitants called it Sagarmatha, or "Head of the Sky." During the British Great Trigonometrical Survey of India, surveyors mapped the peak from near the Nepalese border, and in 1856, it was officially announced as the highest mountain on Earth. Operating without knowledge of local designations, officials named it after Sir George Everest, the former Surveyor General of India who had driven the Himalayan survey campaign forward.

At the time, however, these observations were strictly distant vistas. The kingdom of Nepal remained entirely closed to foreign travelers, leaving the peak appearing as a relatively unremarkable summit half-hidden behind more imposing neighboring mountains. No European had yet laid eyes on it or photographed it from close quarters. That milestone remained a year or two away. Around 1903 or 1904, J. Claude White, then Britain’s political officer in Sikkim, captured a photograph of the snow-white "spotless pinnacle" from the Tibetan fortress town of Kampa Dzong (now Gampa), ninety-four miles away.

Although local communities had inhabited the surrounding valleys for centuries and occasionally ventured onto the lower glaciers, it was not until 1913 that a young Indian Army officer, John Baptist Lucius Noel, disguised himself and stole into Tibet. He successfully advanced to within forty miles of Everest, closer than any European before him. Noel presented the findings of his clandestine journey six years later at the Royal Geographical Society (RGS) in London, thrusting the prospect of climbing the mountain to the forefront of British exploration. Alpinists had contemplated the challenge since the 1890s, but pre-World War I diplomatic tensions between Britain and Tibet had kept the door firmly shut. Now, British climbers and explorers were fully galvanized to attempt an ascent of the world’s highest peak.

Sir Francis Younghusband, a celebrated explorer and leader of the controversial 1904 military campaign that established a British political footprint in Tibet, had recently assumed the presidency of the RGS. He famously described Noel’s lecture as the "spark which set flame to the train."

The Formidable Hurdles of Early Himalayan Exploration

Mountaineers faced a staggering array of obstacles. Foremost was geography: Mount Everest sat halfway across the globe, far removed from a convenient train journey out of London. Compounding this challenge was the complete lack of accurate maps or survey reports detailing the mountain and its immediate terrain. Furthermore, profound uncertainty surrounded the mountain’s actual height. While elite climbers had previously attained elevations of 24,600 feet (7,500 metres), no one knew whether human physiology could endure 29,002 feet (8,839 metres)—the accepted height of Everest’s summit at the time. Early balloonists attempting similar altitudes had perished from oxygen deprivation above 26,250 feet (8,000 metres).

In 1921, the newly formed Mount Everest Committee, drawing members from both the Royal Geographical Society and the Alpine Club, launched the inaugural reconnaissance mission. This was exploration in its classical definition: finding an approach path to the mountain, mapping the surrounding terrain, and establishing a viable route to the summit.

The committee appointed Charles K. Howard-Bury, an experienced Irish-born explorer instrumental in negotiating with Indian and Tibetan authorities to secure expedition access, as leader. His team included surveyors Henry T. Morshead and Edward O. Wheeler, geologist Alexander M. Heron, and naturalist Alexander F. Wollaston. The core climbing roster featured Scotsman Alexander M. Kellas, his compatriot Harold A. Raeburn, and Guy H. Bullock. The final member was a thirty-five-year-old schoolmaster from Charterhouse whose name would forever bind itself to the pinnacle of mountaineering history: George Leigh Mallory.

Dr. Kellas, a physician, had dedicated serious academic study to the physiological challenges of breathing at high altitudes, conducting rigorous experiments within pressure chambers. He deduced that utilizing supplementary bottled oxygen could prove critical for high-altitude success. Kellas also investigated the mechanics of acclimatization—a process where climbers ascend to high elevations before retreating to lower altitudes to recover, thereby training the body to function efficiently with diminished oxygen levels.

Many fundamental tenets of human adaptation to altitude had already been recognized, largely stemming from the insights and field experiences of physician and mountaineer Tom Longstaff during his early twentieth-century Himalayan climbs. Following the 1924 expedition, expedition leader Edward Norton praised Longstaff’s prescience, hailing him as "a true prophet." Kellas also stood among the first to appreciate the exceptional capabilities of local Sherpa hillmen as robust porters and mountain assistants. Partnering with two such men in 1911, Kellas had climbed Pauhunri on the Tibet-Sikkim border, reaching 23,387 feet (7,128 metres)—then the highest altitude ever achieved by a human being.

Mallory’s Ascent and the 1921 Reconnaissance

Before the outbreak of the First World War, George Mallory built a formidable reputation in the Lake District, North Wales, and the Alps, celebrated for his balletic elegance, exceptional balance, and unyielding boldness. Modern mountaineers reviewing his early Welsh routes in the early 2000s concluded that his technical difficulties set his paths apart from those of his contemporaries, noting that his rock-climbing skills surpassed most of his peers.

Mallory was equally gifted with a pen, capable of documenting his internal psychological struggles while waxing poetic about the sublime mountain experience. His step-by-step, detective-like account of deciphering Everest’s topography during the 1921 expedition remains a masterpiece of alpine literature.

By the time the 1921 team reached the northern fringes of the Everest massif in late June, illness had decimated the climbing roster by half. Kellas contracted severe dysentery during the trek and tragically died of heart failure at Kampa Dzong. Raeburn, similarly debilitated, was forced to return to Sikkim. Consequently, the burden of scouting climbing routes fell entirely upon Mallory and Bullock.

The following month, accompanied by local porters, they explored the Central Rongbuk Glacier, which cascades down from the northern base of Everest. From a vantage point on a nearby summit, they identified a broad spur stretching from the North Col—a high saddle connecting Everest to its northern neighbor—up to the Northeast Ridge, which theoretically led to the summit.

Deeming the western side of the Col too steep, they hoped to find an easier line of ascent from the opposite side. However, Mallory missed the entrance to the East Rongbuk side valley, which provided direct access to the North Col from the east. Instead, he and Bullock exited the Rongbuk Valley, reunited with the broader expedition, and traveled toward the village of Kharta on the eastern side of the massif. Weeks later, surveyor Edward Wheeler became the first person to walk the lower reaches of the East Rongbuk Glacier, photographing the terrain and establishing its vital role as the true gateway to the mountain.

After examining the forbidding and perilous Kangshung Face of Everest—an approach Mallory left to "other men, less wise" to climb—he and Bullock received Wheeler’s intelligence regarding the East Rongbuk. They finally laid eyes on it themselves from the Lhakpa La, a 22,472-foot (6,849-metre) pass at the head of the Kharta Valley. On September 22, Mallory, Bullock, Wheeler, and ten porters crossed the Lhakpa La onto the East Rongbuk, enduring a freezing night beneath the North Col.

Setting off the next morning, three tired mountaineers and three exhausted porters tackled the final push to the Col. Favorable conditions kept the climb straightforward until the uppermost slopes, which grew steep and blanketed in deep snow. After four and a half hours of climbing, they crested the storm-tossed saddle at 11:30 a.m., standing 23,184 feet (7,066 metres) high.

While Mallory believed he could push another 2,000 feet (600 metres) higher, a single glance at the swirling plumes of snow whipping across Everest’s North Face and ridges convinced him that any further advance would be sheer folly. The reconnaissance was successfully concluded. During the return journey, Howard-Bury revisited the Kangshung Valley, executing a remarkable feat largely overlooked by historical accounts: accompanied by Sherpas Ang Tenze and Nyima Tendu, he climbed from the valley floor to the Tibetan-Nepalese border ridge at 21,160 feet (6,450 metres) and back in a single day—an elevation gain of 4,600 feet (1,400 metres), representing one of the finest physical performances in early Himalayan mountaineering.

The 1922 Expedition: Oxygen and Ethics

The first Everest expedition proved an unmitigated success. Through exceptional perseverance, the team mapped every approach from the north and east—while the southern Nepalese route remained closed to foreigners until 1950—all during the punishing monsoon season. Crucially, they identified a feasible summit path via the North Col, North Ridge, and Northeast Ridges.

Building upon this foundation, the first serious summit attempt was mounted in 1922. The expedition elected to carry bottled oxygen, following Kellas’s earlier advice, though opinions within the camp remained sharply divided from the outset. Opponents argued against its use on strictly sporting grounds, viewing supplementary oxygen as "unfair" because it artificially reduced the mountain’s height and diminished the pure human challenge. This debate ignited an ethical controversy in high-altitude mountaineering that persists to this day. Mallory himself remained a vocal critic of the technology at the time, writing, "When I think of mountaineering with four cylinders of oxygen on one’s back and a mask over one’s face – well, it loses its charm."

General Charles G. Bruce of the 5th Gurkha Rifles, a jovial, larger-than-life figure of fifty-six, led the expedition. Despite being considered too old for high-altitude climbing, he possessed more Himalayan experience than the rest of the party combined. Fluent in Nepali, Bruce enjoyed universal popularity among the porters and championed their training in mountaineering—a pioneering step toward cultivating self-reliant, experienced native climbers. He invited his twenty-six-year-old cousin, Gurkha Captain Geoffrey Bruce, to serve as transport officer despite his lack of prior high-altitude experience. Together, the Bruces assembled an elite team of porters in Darjeeling to manage base camps and haul expedition equipment.

The climbing roster included returning veterans like Mallory alongside talented newcomers. Among them was George Ingle Finch, a thirty-four-year-old alpinist and scientist possessing a creative, unorthodox mind who served as the primary champion of bottled oxygen. Howard Somervell, a thirty-two-year-old surgeon with an impressive alpine background, proved to be an indispensable team member; he was also an accomplished musician and painter whose watercolors of Tibetan landscapes later featured in prominent books and exhibitions. Completing the roster were Henry Morshead, returning from the 1921 survey team, and Edward Felix Norton, a thirty-eight-year-old military officer decorated for his wartime service and backed by solid alpine credentials.

Breaking the 8,000-Metre Barrier and Tragedy Strike

Following the East Rongbuk Glacier route, the expedition established four progressive camps up to the North Col, launching their first formal summit bid on 20 May. The climbing party comprised Mallory, Norton, Somervell, and Morshead, climbing without supplementary oxygen.

Adversity struck immediately. Accompanied by only four porters amid bitter cold and fierce winds, Norton lost his rucksack containing spare clothing during a rest stop. At 25,000 feet (7,620 metres), the climbers pitched two tents on the left side of the North Ridge to escape the gale-force winds. The resulting night in cramped canvas shelters on sloping scree ledges proved agonizing, compounded by heavy snowfall.

The next morning, Morshead felt physically depleted and turned back shortly after departure. The remaining three men trudged upward with immense difficulty; stripped of oxygen support, they could barely manage 400 feet (122 metres) of vertical gain per hour, gasping for breath between every step and requiring rest every twenty to thirty minutes. With the summit long out of reach by early afternoon, Mallory, Norton, and Somervell reached a less steep recess on the blocky spur at approximately 2:15 p.m. and opted to retreat. Reaching approximately 26,640 feet (8,120 metres), they secured their place in history as the first humans to cross the magical 8,000-metre threshold.

Photographs from these early expeditions capture outfits that appear remarkably primitive to modern eyes. Playwright George Bernard Shaw famously likened a 1921 reconnaissance team photo to a "Connemara picnic surprised by a snowstorm." The sight of Mallory and Norton standing at 8,000 metres clad in nailed boots, cashmere puttees, gabardine jackets, and knickerbockers mirrored standard Alpine attire.

Yet their rudimentary appearance belied a sophisticated understanding of technical gear. They grasped the principles of layering: silk-wool underwear kept skin dry, while Shetland wool and flannel provided insulation. Lessons learned from polar exploration dictated the necessity of windproof, breathable outer garments—gabardine serving as the 1920s equivalent of modern Gore-Tex. George Finch even engineered the world’s first down-filled garments for high-altitude climbing in 1922, though the concept failed to gain immediate traction. Felt-insulated nailed boots remained relatively lightweight and versatile, offering dependable traction on all but sheer ice.

When Finch launched his own summit bid on May 24, 1922, he marked the first recorded use of oxygen as an active climbing aid, moving past the experimental trials that had trickled along since 1907. Accompanied by Geoffrey Bruce and Gurkha soldier Tejbir Bura, Finch quickly demonstrated the staggering advantages of bottled oxygen. Despite carrying heavier loads, the trio easily overtook their porters on the North Ridge, who had started an hour and a half ahead of them.

They established Camp V at 25,500 feet (7,770 metres)—some 500 feet higher than the previous party’s camp—only to be pinned down inside their tents by a severe two-day storm. Deprived of food and sleep, their vitality waned until Finch deployed oxygen inside the tent. The physiological turnaround was nothing short of miraculous. Modern medicine confirms that continuous oxygen staves off frostbite and physical deterioration during prolonged high-altitude exposure.

Resuming their push the following morning, disaster nearly struck when Tejbir collapsed from exhaustion after carrying spare oxygen cylinders only a short distance. Finch and Bruce absorbed his load and pressed upward. Pushed onto the North Face by fierce winds, they executed a diagonal traverse of nearly a kilometer before aiming once more for the Northeast Ridge. As Finch led the way near the summit of a prominent snow triangle high on the face, Bruce’s oxygen apparatus suffered a mechanical failure, nearly sending him tumbling backward into the void. Finch scrambled back just in time to rescue his partner, effecting a hasty repair to the broken connection piece. Further ascent, however, carried unacceptable risks.

Reaching approximately 27,500 feet (8,380 metres), Finch and Bruce established a new world altitude record—achieved during Geoffrey Bruce’s maiden mountaineering expedition. With oxygen support, the pair climbed roughly three times faster than Mallory’s unassisted party.

The expedition’s momentum, however, ended in tragedy. On June 7, facing the imminent onset of the Himalayan monsoon, Mallory and Somervell launched a third summit bid alongside civil servant Colin Crawford and a team of porters divided into four marching groups. Shortly after resting roughly 600 feet below the saddle, an avalanche thundered down from above, sweeping the men away. While the lead climbers and four porters managed to arrest their fall and extricate themselves, the trailing porters were hurled over an ice wall and buried within a deep crevasse below. Seven men lost their lives.

The catastrophe brought a somber close to the second major attempt on Everest. The mountain remained unconquered, and the lethal "death zone" above 8,000 metres remained largely uncharted territory. Yet the expeditions had accumulated invaluable data concerning human physiology, acclimatization, dehydration, and supplemental oxygen, laying the technical groundwork for the generations of mountaineers to follow.

Anticipation reached a fever pitch when the third expedition departed England in late February 1924, introducing twenty-one-year-old Sandy Irvine into the enduring saga of Mount Everest.